


Favourite Method of Self-Destruction

by Houseofmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Sex, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Black Family Madness (Harry Potter), Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Cousin Incest, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Leather Jackets, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Narcissa Black Malfoy-centric, Narcissa Wears a Leather Jacket, POV Narcissa Black Malfoy, Rough Sex, That's All That's The Plot, Vaginal Sex, Young Narcissa Black Malfoy, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofmalfoy/pseuds/Houseofmalfoy
Summary: Narcissa wears a leather jacket that's not hers, Sirius kind of loses his mind because she looks ridiculously hot in it.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	Favourite Method of Self-Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much to my wonderful betas, y'all are the best. Obvious warning for cousin incest here but you should've read the tags if that comes as a surprise.

Narcissa woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own but one she recognised quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, but she couldn’t help that. Not anymore. It was too late to take back the familiarity of the muggle apartment in the middle of London that she’d spent more nights in than she cared to acknowledge. 

She sat up, pulling the sheets to cover her chest despite knowing full well that if anyone else were in the room, it’d only be  _ him _ . 

Sirius wasn’t there anyway, so it hardly made a difference at all, really.

Narcissa looked around the room that provided her with a feeling of both home and regret at the same time. The engagement ring on her finger caught the light at just the right moment and she looked away from it, knowing full well it was the reason she should never have come here in the first place; knowing even better it was the main reason she had. At least it had been last night. 

Moving to the edge of the bed, Narcissa shook her head at the mess of clothing that lay on the floor; pieces of it her own, admittedly, but the accumulated mess could not have possibly gathered in a single day. Sirius had  _ always _ been disorganised like that. 

She heard him then, from the kitchen, singing a song about house-elves that he’d no doubt composed himself and was almost certainly based on Kreacher. Narcissa had always believed the dynamic between the old elf and her cousin had been, for the most part, his fault; to her, Kreacher was nothing but a gentleman. 

Knowing he was in the kitchen, alone in his apartment just as they’d been the night before — Narcissa wouldn’t dream of being taken back here if there was even half a chance of Sirius’ roommate being home — made her reconsider her initial instinct to reach for her own robes. 

Narcissa’s eyes fell on a discarded leather jacket, obviously belonging to Sirius and not her, and smiled to herself. 

She’d only worn one once before, pulled over her robes as a joke. Sirius had only made fun of her for a few moments before she’d noticed how hard she’d made him. If no one was home but them, and Narcissa was in no hurry to get back to Black Hall and forget all about last night’s escapades, what was the harm in seeing what a little more of Sirius’ own style would do to him?

Stepping out of bed as naked as she’d been all night, she crossed the room to Sirius’ wardrobe and took out one of his pairs of jeans– they were ripped, of course they were; sometimes she doesn’t know how her eyes haven’t fallen out of her head as yet with the amount she rolls them around him– but she put them on nonetheless. 

It was strangely exciting, Narcissa found, to wear her lover’s slightly too large clothes over her naked form; the feel of a leather jacket on her bare skin made her almost understand why Sirius was so fond of the style in the first place. 

She didn’t zip up the jacket, instead opting to let it fall over her sides in a way that scarcely covered her breasts.  _ If only mother could see me now _ , Narcissa thought with a chuckle. Druella Black would’ve died of heart failure before having gotten the chance to chastise her about  _ society _ and  _ family _ and  _ reputation _ .

Thoughts of her mother melted away when she left the mess of a bedroom — she briefly wondered how she hadn’t noticed and been bothered by the chaos last night, but truth be told she’d been rather preoccupied with something  _ much _ more aesthetically pleasing. 

That something was standing at the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee and a half-eaten piece of toast. He looked even more unkempt than last night – she briefly wondered how that was even  _ possible  _ –, now donning muggle jeans and a t-shirt, but every bit as desirable. 

“Good morning,” Narcissa said, and she didn’t think there was anything she would have enjoyed more that morning than the look on his face when he turned around and saw her. Out of place as she might have felt in it, it was undeniable how much Sirius admired it. 

His voice was still a little groggy from just having woken up when he croaked a surprised “...morning, love.”

Sirius didn’t bother to hide that he was blatantly staring at her breasts, and she didn’t bother pretending she was as concerned about propriety as she might have been under different circumstances; she did so adore his reaction when she scolded him for such things, but even Narcissa knew better than to expect anything but obvious lust right now. 

She smirked when Sirius put down his mug on the counter. 

“Did you sleep well?” Narcissa asked casually, leaning up to kiss him briefly as though nothing was different. She lifted the piece of toast from the plate and took a bite, pretending to be absent-minded when she ran her fingers across his chest affectionately. 

She didn’t always stick around even for the morning to arrive, but Narcissa had to admit she could get used to the way her cousin looked when he’d just rolled out of bed. Part of her wanted to see it more often, part of her knew better than to risk such things. 

She’d given up on a chance of anything more than one-night stands and moments-of-weakness from Sirius long ago, the engagement ring on her finger promised that much. She wasn’t about to let herself believe she could back out of that decision now. 

The fact that Sirius was pushing her against the counter, his hands on her hips and his eyes still hungrily looking at her leather-clad chest, didn’t change the decisions she’d made. It couldn’t change them. It only made it easier to forget about them. 

His reaction couldn’t have been better.

“Bloody hell.” Sirius’ breath was hot against her skin when he pulled her close at the jacket she was wearing and placed an open-mouthed kiss against her jaw, tilting her head to look her in the eye. “You have no idea how fucking  _ hard _ you make me...”

Narcissa scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him as she pressed herself up against Sirius, surprised by how much she liked the feeling of the leather against her skin like that. She tilted her head sideways and he eagerly took the opportunity to leave more wet kisses against the skin of her neck. “I have a feeling...” 

She could feel his hardness through his old jeans, pushing against her when she was lifted up on the kitchen counter by his calloused hands. Narcissa leaned forward to kiss him and was met with sheer desperation, his fingers digging into her hips and waist before they moved up to cup her breasts below the leather jacket she still wore. 

Sirius wasn’t going to take that jacket off this morning, no matter what. She knew him well enough to be able to predict that already.

Narcissa was content for a little while to sit pressed against Sirius with his hands at her breasts and his mouth ravaging hers, her fingers tangled in his unkempt hair. She could feel how much more he wanted, could feel his erection pressing against the fabric of his jeans, and though she wanted it too and she wanted it just as badly, she loved the build-up too much to give in straight away.

He was so often the one to make her lose it completely, she couldn’t give up the opportunity to drag it out now that the tables were turned. 

Sirius was her weakness in all her struggle for propriety. The one person that had the power to make her consider neglecting what she was supposed to be, that made her willing to forsake all the rules and all the expectations just for how long it took for him to fuck her. 

She’d long given up on the naive fantasy she’d had at sixteen; of the two of them marrying one day, at the top of the society she prized and he detested. Narcissa knew not to entertain that fantasy anymore, and she knew that through the choices they’d both made and only talked about when they felt like arguing, they’d given up on ever being more than this. 

They’d never be more to each other than an exception, a flaw in the plan, a moment of weakness. 

Narcissa spent her days working towards perfection and nothing less; from the robes she wore and the people she talked to, from and the people she trusted and the people she pretended didn’t exist, to the way she spoke, to the opinions she had; it was all done with one purpose. Perfection in a world that was already perfect.

Sirius ridiculed her for it and she  _ hated _ that about him. Hated that his mocking meant he was the one person that made letting go of everything she held dear in her day-to-day life seem worth it. He made her feel like forsaking her responsibilities for a night with one of the few people she could never have; for the thrill and the orgasms he brought her; for him. 

It was evident in her being here already, and it was evident in her staying the night and dressing in his leather jackets when she wouldn’t have thought about doing that with anyone else, for anyone else. Narcissa was  _ good _ and  _ proper _ and  _ pure _ , but with Sirius none of that mattered and none of that felt as true as it should have. 

He made her lose control when no one else could, when she didn’t let herself around anyone else but him. 

It only felt fair she would do the same to him. 

When she reached for the zipper of Sirius’ pants, she smirked as he leaned into her touch at once. Narcissa continued to kiss him feverishly, losing her breath on his tongue and lips moving against hers as though he never wanted to do anything other than make her lose her senses just by kissing her like that. 

Sirius undid the pants she wore that weren’t hers at all but not before forcing his lips away from hers for just a moment to tell her how utterly irresistible she looked in them; Narcissa only chuckled teasingly at his excitement when he realised she didn’t wear anything underneath. 

He sank to his knee partly, in what she could only assume was a rather uncomfortable position for him, but it didn’t do away with his eagerness when he brashly kissed the crook of her knee up her legs. Narcissa moaned quietly, closing her eyes at his touches, but gasped and nearly smacked him when she felt a sudden sting in the soft skin of her thighs. 

“Bastard,” she whispered, her arousal far more evident in her voice than she would have liked for it to be. Sirius grinned up at her with such arrogance that she felt like hitting him once again. The way she glared at him was useless, when she hissed at him kissing the bitemark he’d just left, and most specially when he knew exactly how much she loved being marked by him like that. 

It was another thing about him that she shouldn’t enjoy as much as she did. Sirius never let her go home without at least  _ one _ reminder of their time together. She still had bruises on her neck from last night. That evidently wasn’t enough for him anymore. 

Narcissa had no reason to complain.

“You know you love it,” Sirius muttered with his lips pressed against her labia, sending a shiver of delight up her spine. She didn’t bother arguing his point. 

His tongue parted her lips, teased her clit and then he immediately bit her other thigh; Narcissa whispered a quiet ”Merlin…” but was quickly silenced when all at once his attention seemed to be centred entirely on her clitoris. 

Looking down at his unruly hair between her thighs only satisfied her more. Narcissa moaned, her fingers tangling themselves in his curls before Sirius all too soon drew away, licking, biting, and kissing a path up her stomach. His hands pulled her closer to him at the ends of her jacket, his teeth lovingly sinking into one of her breasts. 

It wasn’t physically possible for him to get any closer, but she wanted him to regardless. He never did fail to make it worth the risks she took to see him. 

Narcissa felt him kiss the brand-new mark on the pale skin of her breast and then she whimpered when he drew his fingers across her vagina slowly and firmly. She pulled his face towards her and kissed him, somehow more hungrily than before, as she reached for his erect cock through his underwear. 

Her lips brushed against his as she pulled down his boxers hurriedly. 

“Fuck me,” Narcissa whispered, and her mind barely registered the protection and lubrication charms her cousin cast before he did exactly what she’d told him to. Sirius scarcely took the time to ease her into it, though he always checked if she was okay; when Narcissa only nodded for him to go on, he did. 

There was no real build-up from the moment he was inside of her, just his desperate rutting against her and his hands back on her hips keeping her firmly in place. Sirius’ leather jacket stuck to her skin as she began to sweat. Narcissa didn’t even feel it, not really. All that seemed to matter was his cock pounding into her and his eyes taking her in as though he couldn’t possibly get enough of her. 

Sirius moaned and for a second all Narcissa could think was how much she loved that sound coming from him. One of her hands remained in his hair, guiding his mouth to her neck, her breasts, and her own lips as she saw fit; her free fingers worked her clit with each of his thrusts. 

Narcissa was panting, out of breath by the time she was clenching around his cock when her orgasm came closer; her moans only spurred Sirius on. No way and no reason to control himself, he fucked her until she’d barely be able to give her own name if asked. Right now, she didn’t care.  _ Sirius’  _ name was so readily on her lips, that was all that mattered. 

He’d been holding out for her, she vaguely realised when she came with a quiet moan. Her fingers tightened their grip on his hair and from the sounds of it, he didn’t mind. She’d barely ridden out her own orgasm before she felt Sirius spill inside of her and she kissed him deeply, swallowing his moans. 

_ Sweet Salazar, she loved him. _

Sirius was breathing heavily, his head resting against her shoulder while he took in deep breaths; neither of them spoke for a moment, content to just  _ be _ . They so rarely got the chance. 

She knew perfectly well that that chance was so rare because they shouldn’t ever have gotten it in the first place. Narcissa knew all too well that she was being foolish, was taking risks she shouldn’t ever show up here at all. They didn’t get to just  _ be _ , they didn’t get moments of quiet and peace when they were together, because they shouldn’t have gotten together at all. 

Narcissa had known that from the very beginning, and it had rarely held her back. At first, when she’d wanted him and he’d wanted her just as badly, she’d had some sort of restraint left that made her think twice before giving in. Back then,the fact that they could never be had still mattered to her, had still  _ hurt _ her. 

She’d long stopped caring that they’d never be more than nostalgia-filled hook-ups in his muggle flat. That's what Narcissa told herself, at least.

Still, she couldn’t hold herself back from asking a question that felt permanently branded into her mind every time she came back to Sirius; a question she never stopped asking herself and had never been comfortable answering to even her own subconscious. Her fingers were still buried in his hair, his breath still hot against her collar bones and breasts, and Narcissa knew if there were a worse time to ask it she wouldn’t find it. 

“Why in Salazar’s name do we keep doing this?”

Sirius chuckled darkly and she hated what that told her about the way he’d respond. He lifted his head from her shoulder and she felt his hands tug on the leather jacket slightly. Narcissa met his familiar grey eyes, not being able to look away when he rested his forehead against hers and she had to resist to kiss him. Part of her would rather drown herself in him a second time than listen to his answer. 

She didn’t, and his voice was biting and mean when he spoke; Narcissa didn’t want to listen. “You’re my favourite method of self-destruction, Cissa.”

Narcissa hated to hear it because she knew it was true, and she knew the feeling was all too mutual. That didn’t make her enjoy being called destructive any more, didn’t make it feel better that she was essentially reduced to a thing he used to hurt himself. Her displeasure showed in her expression when she narrowed her eyes without moving away from him, the grip on his hair and waist tightening as she did. 

“C’mon now, love,” Sirius shrugged, and when he bit her bottom lip gently she hated herself for leaning into his touch. “What keeps you coming back then, huh? The future you envision with me?”

One of his hands took the arm she’d had around his waist and she felt his fingers brush over the engagement ring on her finger harshly. “Don’t think so.”

He wasn’t joking. He so often was when they dared to venture near this subject, when they dared to talk about them and what they were to one another, but he didn’t smile this time. He didn’t lighten the mood with an offhand comment on how gorgeous she looked; he didn’t ask her what her  _ mother  _ would say if she could be here. 

Sirius’ brows were furrowed together and he was more pissed off than Narcissa had anticipated, though he only leaned in closer to her. Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers let go of her hand and took hold of her ribcage and waist instead; his gaze angry when he looked right into her eyes and she hardly knew what to make of it. 

She couldn’t answer him because she didn’t know, either. 

She wasn’t here for the future she imagined they might have had at sixteen and she wasn’t here because she had any intention of forsaking the responsibilities she knew she would return to within a few hours. Sirius knew it as well as she did, and she didn’t think it helped with his anger. 

Narcissa couldn’t stay away from him, though. Everything she was and everything she would be contradicted her actions whenever she left pureblood society behind for even just a little while and came here, came back to him, and let Sirius help her forget everything else in the world. 

_ His favourite method of self-destruction.  _

Narcissa laughed bitterly at the words when she repeated them in her head, and before he had a chance to make another venomous remark she kissed him hard. Whatever Sirius had been about to tell her clearly wasn’t that important, because he answered her immediately and with greed. 

She jumped off of the counter, pushing him back until he pulled away just enough to mutter “bedroom?”

The anger was still present in Sirius’ voice, more blatant than it was before, but it was nearly overshadowed by lust. Narcissa nodded, every bit as frustrated with her cousin as he was with her. The grip on her waist was tight enough to leave bruises when he dragged her along, back to the small bedroom she’d left earlier. 

She was naked save for the leather jacket he hadn’t let her take off earlier. Sirius was very much not so and Narcissa began pushing down his jeans with short, angry movements, her nails scratching down his legs when he only rolled his eyes as he stepped out of them. “What’s a little more destruction,” Narcissa hissed at him. 

He laughed at that, just as much enjoying this as he was angry about it. “Hurt your feelings there, didn’t I?” Sirius muttered, then captured her lips in another rough kiss that only made her want him more badly.

Narcissa didn’t bother answering him, didn’t bother to say anything when she could trace his lips with her teeth instead of speaking. She whispered an urgent order to get him to lay back on the mess that was his two-person bed and he squeezed her waist painfully before complying. 

For just a moment she just stood over Sirius and looked down at him, still wearing the old shirt he wore as a make-shift pyjama but otherwise already hard again; she smirked at the sight. 

Self-destructive behaviours aside, he looked absolutely gorgeous when he wanted her this badly. 

Narcissa supposed that was part of the reason she had never quite been able to resist his charms. Forbidden, destructive, rebellious, and beautiful through it all; perfectly imperfect in all the ways she couldn’t possibly resist. 

She was overwhelmingly wet already, still sensitive from her previous orgasm, but she knew exactly what she wanted and she knew Sirius was going to give it to her despite how angry he was. 

He was so many things she shouldn’t want, but she knew him like no other. 

Narcissa moved towards the bed with blazing eyes, pulling on the leather jacket she wore to make it fit a little better and cover her breasts again; Sirius’ eyes looked ready to devour her right there and then, and she revelled in it as she knelt on the bed beside him. 

She leaned forward, looking up at him every now and then while she bit into the skin of his inner thighs, not hard enough to leave the marks that stained her own legs, working her way up to his erection teasingly. Sirius took hold of her hair roughly, pulling her closer towards him, and she rolled her eyes but listened to his silent demand for her to get to it already.

Narcissa placed her lips against his balls and looked up at him when she licked up his cock, pausing for a moment to circle her tongue around the tip of it before taking him in his mouth. 

She sucked him off almost methodically in a way that made it obvious she was still frustrated with him, using the palm of her hand on the part of his erection that she couldn’t swallow. Before long Narcissa had him as hard he could be, as turned on as she needed him to be, and when she sat up one of her hands pierced the skin of his hips while the other ran circles across her own clitoris. 

Sirius reached to take her hand but she smacked his fingers away, so in response he slapped her arse the moment he had access. “Fuck off,” she snapped, when really she wouldn’t have minded it if he’d done it again. She repositioned herself until she sat on top of him, her fingers wrapped around his cock once more, and, Merlin, did she love how he could look both so deliciously angry with, and undeniably eager for her. 

Narcissa held his gaze, parting her lips in a quiet moan when she let herself sink down onto his hard cock, and she grinned at the way his hips shot up towards her. Her nails dug into the skin of his chest, softly for now, when she slowly began to move up and down. 

His fingers tightened on her hips when she moved, as if everything in him wanted to make her life more difficult right now; as if he still had any belief he was the one in charge here. Narcissa responded by leaning towards him until the collar of her jacket, his jacket, brushed against his chest. 

Sirius pushed himself up to kiss her, groaning angrily as he made himself sit up more than before; his tongue forcibly pushed into her mouth and Narcissa reacted by dragging her nails harshly over the nearest bit of skin she could find. He bit her lip harshly and for a second she thought he had drawn blood, but the thought washed away at once. 

_ Who cared if he had? _

Narcissa whimpered, pulling her face away from him just enough to hiss “you dick,” at him. Sirius laughed with all the haughtiness of an aristocrat, and she revelled in the irony of that behaviour. 

“You’re free to leave if you don’t like my ways, love,” Sirius grunted at her, moaning against the curve of her neck when she increased her pace until she was breathing heavily with effort. They were both well aware that she would not leave, not then, not anywhere in the nearby future. Not truly. 

He bit the skin of her neck, then, and the moan it drew from her came out more a pained hiss than anything else. Narcissa tilted her head forward, momentarily only seeing the unfocused image of bite marks on Sirius’ shoulders and the untidied room she was riding him in. 

Everything she shouldn’t want, a place she never should have set foot in in the first place, defying any and all expectations she had set for herself so long ago for the so maniest time. For the chance to ride a gorgeous man she convinced herself she didn’t really want; and all she had the sense to think was how much she loved the feeling of his cock filling her up. 

Sirius groaned, and when his thrusts became more desperate, more animalistic than he normally was with her, a tell-tale sign he was trying to hold back from coming too soon, Narcissa kissed him deeply and only rode him faster. 

He spilled inside of her, drowning his moans in her mouth, and she clung to him as she milked his orgasm until Narcissa could closer her eyes and throw her head back when her own hit her. 

Out of breath and overly sensitive, she whimpered softly when she slowly moved off of his cock, and didn’t fight Sirius when he lay back down and pulled her with him. Narcissa’s head against his chest, her black and white hair clinging to her skin that was glistening with sweat, and she found it felt more right than she normally dared to imagine.

The leather jacket still clung to her skin when she moved her head away from Sirius’ chest and looked up at him, studying his face carefully. 

He was always so beautiful, she thought. Ever since they’d been children, he’d had the classic and infamous Black features about him. High cheekbones and an angular face, ink-black hair that fell around him in curls that some days were as tame as Narcissa’s own and some days were the mess Bella worked with every day. 

The grey of his eyes had never ceased to amaze her, like storm-clouds gathering on a previously sunny day she often spent flying on the Lestranges’ winged horses; the clouds warning you that though you’ve had a wonderful time so far, it’s time to get out of the sky before you regret ever going outside. 

Narcissa didn’t heed the warning when his eyes landed on hers with a tired grin, all his anger long gone. She leaned up to kiss him with a tenderness they so rarely managed to reserve for one another, and Sirius’ hand reached up to caress her cheek gently. He smiled at her. 

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to bring up their previous argument again — though she couldn’t deny she’d rather appreciated the way that had turned out — but Sirius only tensed slightly and only for a moment when she said “your favourite method of self-destruction, huh?”

It was an accusation all the same but his time neither of them got as angry, and the grey in his eyes only lit up with a bit of mischief. “My favourite,” Sirius muttered, kissing her briefly, “that’s what you are.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes and he laughed at that, teasingly and sweetly, 

“You use me to fuck yourself up?” Narcissa muttered, momentarily digging her nails into his skin again.

Sirius only smirked. “Did you just cuss, love?”

“See what you do to me?”

Narcissa shrieked quietly when he bit her earlobe without a warning. She kissed him, more carefree than ever since she’d set foot in his flat yesterday afternoon, and Sirius sighed against his lips tiredly. 

“You’re here for the same reason, Cissa. You need risk and you’re not supposed to want it. So here you are, cause you know I don’t care enough about myself not to give you what you shouldn’t have.”

She hated it when he was right about her. “You’re too arrogant to be self-deprecating,” Narcissa argued instead, though she knew she was wrong. She just needed something to argue him on.

“You’re less self-aware than I’d feared if you think those are mutually exclusive, love.”

Silence fell over them then, during which Narcissa knew nothing but the feeling of Sirius’ hands in her hair and on her naked skin, toying with the zipper of a jacket that belonged to him, in an unkept room that smelled of sex. Part of her wanted to stay forever, the wiser part of her knew better.

“That’s all we can be, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

Sirius seemed to already know what she’d say or he didn’t care at all, and Narcissa hated him for it. 

“Self-destructive.”

“Still my favourite.”

His favourite method of self-destruction. Narcissa may have hated him for his carelessness, but she hated herself for how quickly she’d warmed up to that horrendous description of her.

“I should leave.”

She didn’t want to but she knew she was right, and though the worst part of her, the part that really was as self-destructive as Sirius claimed it was, hoped he’d hold her back.

“Fuck off then.”

Narcissa should’ve known better.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are of course always appreciated!


End file.
